


Liebesbriefe Kontaktanzeigen

by redfive86



Category: Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Art, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfive86/pseuds/redfive86
Summary: As a girl, Jo thought soulmate matches were silly.  What happens if your match never reaches out to get in touch?
Relationships: Friedrich Bhaer/Josephine March
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Liebesbriefe Kontaktanzeigen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SingerQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingerQueen/gifts).



The strong will does not accept fate lightly and will not be told the best for it without ample evidence of success. For Jo, a decidedly tempestuous and determined soul, was required a good many hard knocks to convince her of the merits of external wisdom on the determination of one’s personal affairs. 

In the sorrowing months after Beth departed, Jo attempted a complete reformation under the daily guidance of grief, the great tutor, throwing herself fully into her duty and expectations as the maiden aunt of a loving family. She pushed aside regrets of past follies, wrapt up in a valiant quest for the simple rewards of efforts honestly pursued. 

Jo had taken to spending the hour of dusk walking in the quiet twilight of the gardens. She was not often disturbed, although Marmee did occasionally visit upon her solitude, finding Jo blossomed into a sober and sensible _confidante_. Jo stood among the hedges on the eve of a milestone in her life as a young woman, her oft-visited plans of stories or tender thoughts of a separated sister far from the machinations under her troubled brow. Her face was the only outward sign of the internal tempest, for tomorrow was her birthday and on this evening her thoughts turned to the rapid pace of time and the accomplishments she might have made. “Oh my rash, abominable tongue! I’m old, and can’t enjoy it-” and there Jo sighed, as if she had no hope of navigation from the dark lagoon of her thoughts. Jo was mistaken in that; she had accomplished a good deal in her short life, and by and by she saw, and was grateful for her quarter century of lessons. 

When Amy and Laurie wrote of their engagement, each one glorifying both the other and process which had finally led them to their match, Jo wondered if her youthful haste and distaste for the process by which soulmates were offered to each other as potential matches might require a new approach. “I am glad for the children and that Teddy waited to submit his soul piece, as otherwise he might’ve tailored it to me. Imagine, poor Teddy pouring his heart out in writing which he thought perfect for me and then waiting long, unhappy years for any matching works to be submitted! The poor boy would have ruined his chance to find his match by trying to fit what he thought he wanted, rather than accepting what would be best. What a waste of a fine life that might have been!” Despite Mrs. March’s fears, Jo was indeed happy for the two lovebirds; though her happiness was tempered by a small jealousy. The old feeling awoke again, not sharp and bitter as it once was, now grown into a dolefully patient contemplation why one sister might receive all she asked, the other nothing. Of course it was not true, she knew that, and tried to set it aside, but the understandable craving for affection was strong, and news of Amy’s happiness woke the dormant hunger for someone to “love with all my heart, and cling to, while God put them together.” 

If it possesses even a small quantity of intelligence, even the most determined soul might find it difficult to man its batteries against the relentless trek of proven success. For indeed, Amy was not the first sister to reap the indelible rewards of her external match. Meg, who had submitted her soul piece as soon as Mrs. March had given her permission, was now fully in the bloom of deep happiness, blossoming into her new life in the small cottage with John and the babies. None of Jo’s voluminous scorn of the soul match had made the smallest protrusion on the comfort and surety wherein Meg so comfortably rested, now joined by Amy. Jo carefully turned these ideas around in her contemplation, inspecting them from every angle, for wise souls always move cautiously toward new approaches to those core truths to which they have long held fast. 

“Surely I will not have long to wait for a response, as it has been many years since I was of an age to submit a soul piece, a match must already be awaiting my response. I shall find myself with potential for a grand new adventure without much delay.” This buoyed Jo’s spirits temporarily, and as a season passed she pressed forward in her attempts at reformation with renewed vigor and enthusiasm. Given time the doubts will come; and arrive they did, falling into Jo’s thoughts as the leaves fell onto the path ahead each evening on her walk. 

On an afternoon ripe with many mishaps - Jo upset the pan of biscuits, put a tear in her new calico, and sent two small teacups to their final rest, all before lunch,- Mrs. March inquired of Jo, who had retreated to her sewing as a defense, what might be the source of her fluster. With her eyes on her work, Jo answered soberly, “I want something new; I feel unsettled. I fret too much over my own affairs. I wish to be doing, learning more than I can in those things which are available to me. I believe I can be spared this winter, and I should enjoy the opportunity to step out of the nest and try my hand at flight.” 

“Where will you step out?” 

“To New York. You know Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young person who might serve as a governess. It’s a task which is hard to fit a person to, but I think I may be the correct solution.” 

Mothers have the sharpest eyes for the hopes and inspirations of their daughters, all the more finely attuned with each passing daughter; Mrs. March was not at all surprised that Jo might take heed of new wishes to protect the wounds of the old. In quick time, all was settled, and Jo found herself comfortably installed in a funny little sky-parlor in Mrs. Kirke’s boarding house. She found the bustle of the great table in the house intimidating and for many weeks kept to herself, taking meals with the children in the nursery and spending hours scribbling by the window in her room. Her relative solitude was punctured one evening when a bushy-headed man stepped into the parlor. This man Jo had encountered before on the stairwell; Professor Bhaer was a solid German, with a large beard and kind eyes, who had been given over the care of his nephews. Four small souls toddled through the doorway after him as if he were their mother duck, and he finished some small sermon while they entered. He finished his parable and crouched down on one knee to look the oldest boy in the eyes. 

“Ah, yes, _mein kleiner_ , for you must know, 

‘ _When these hidden stores of ours_

_Lie open to the Father’s sight - “_

Were it carried by a team of eight horses, Jo’s head would not have been able to fly up from her work with the speed she brought her eyes to gaze upon the Professor, intent upon instilling an important morality in the young minds. This unassuming man was reciting from her soul work; the works were unmistakable, the more over for the immense care and skill by which Jo had laid those phrases together to express her most authentic self to her unknown and amorphous soulmate. She felt the phrases rise in her throat without control and spoke the rest along with the large man, 

“ _\- may they be rich in golden hours-_

_deeds the show fairer for the light.”_

As we all come to profound experiences in our own times, it was now the Professor’s turn to snap to attention from the lassitude of the calm evening. A romantic mind might have observed the change which came over the kind brown eyes, taking care to discover the cascades of surprise, joy, arousal, and regret which cycled through them; yet, Jo’s senses could not recognize any sights or sounds outside of the rushing of her heartbeat in her veins. The Professor recovered a shred of his dignity first and ushered the small ones back out the door with a promise of a new story after supper. The small ‘snick’ of the door latch heralded a change in the atmosphere of the parlor, both occupants placed warily at either end, unsure of which path might be the best upon which to proceed. 

Jo spoke first, for despite taking more time to regain her composure had recovered more fully. She moved slowly, with caution, in the manner of a lion tamer cautiously approaching his prey, tempering her soaring hopes with the lightest approach she could manage. “I wonder, Professor, where you heard that silly parable?”

“Mees Marsch, you seem to know already the answer to the question you pose. I do not think it is a kindness to put on the front for such a matter as this one,” he said, taking a few short steps across the floor of the parlor. “The matters of the heart are too important to be taken lightly. I did not believe that I would cross paths mit the source of the match in my humble routine. Was I a fool to believe it might be possible? Sentimental? Yes. Thank Gott, we Germans believe in sentiment.”

“And you thought she might fare better if you did not reply?”

“I thought it better for her to wait for another match, and for that I could not find the heart to write. What haf I to offer her? My heart? It is not, I think, enough of an offering to the soul who produced these fine words.” 

Friedrich could not have known what effect his confession might have on the soul in question. “I believe it is up to the soul in question to decide which offerings might be worthy.” Jo returned to her seat and smoothed her skirts, gesturing to the open chair next to her, waiting for him to settle before she continued. “What you have to offer might be just the offering that heart might desire-” She paused, for he looked at her with an expression which glorified his face to such a degree that he actually seemed to radiate from within, to take him in before continuing, “provided you will actually offer your heart to her.” 

“I haf loved that heart since I read her words. I gif you my wort it is so. Might I show you my response?” 

“I could not think of anything I desired more if Selene herself were to descend upon her moon-chariot and appear on the hearth.” Jo accepted the Professor’s hand and followed him out of the parlor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, SingerQueen! Your request turned out to be quite a challenge for me, and I loved the opportunity to flex some new muscles! I wanted to try my hand at the style of rambling, omniscient narrator of Alcott's that I love so much, but I ended up also learning so much about AU's that I didn't know before! I had a lot of fun trying to wrap my brain around both! Thank you for the challenge!
> 
> Many thanks to L for her wonderfully helpful comments!


End file.
